


buggin'

by parsnipit



Series: jaspvid week 2020 [1]
Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Anxiety, Character Study, David Acting as Max's Parental Figure | Dadvid (Camp Camp), Domestic Fluff, Insecurity, Jasper Acting As Max's Parental Figure (Camp Camp), Jasper Lives (Camp Camp), M/M, because jasper lives hes like, of sorts, technically?? - Freeform, they're one big happy family and i will accept Nothing else, twenty four or somethin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:28:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24412849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parsnipit/pseuds/parsnipit
Summary: David loves the woods, he loves nature, he loves hiking, he loves all of it! The only problem is that Jasper…really, really doesn’t.
Relationships: David/Jasper (Camp Camp)
Series: jaspvid week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1762963
Comments: 7
Kudos: 51





	buggin'

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: anxiety, brief self-doubt/insecurity

David _loves_ people. People are just—well, they’re just so darn great! They carry wonderful stories with them, tell tales with the lines around their mouths and the subtle movements of their eyes, and even when they aren’t speaking David could listen for hours. Getting to know other people, getting to learn from them and getting to tell his stories in return—it all brings him a tremendous amount of joy. He can’t imagine living in isolation for more than a few days at a time. The mere thought sends a cold shiver chattering down his spine, and he shudders. 

But sometimes—well, sometimes David _does_ like being alone. 

Not for very long, oh, no! Never for very long. A couple of days, maybe a week, and then he’ll crave socialization and haul himself back to town again. He knows as soon as he gets home he’ll be swarmed by his family, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He can’t wait to see them all again, to hold them and talk with them and listen to all the stories they tell him. 

Ahead of him, some ways down the trail, a flurry of barking erupts. David picks up his pace, cresting the hill in time to see Baskin tree a harried squirrel. The squirrel, chattering angrily, flings an acorn into Baskin’s head. David can’t help but laugh, and Baskin turns towards the sound, her tail wagging furiously. 

“Ah, I’m sorry,” David says, grinning as she runs to him. He crouches, ruffling her ears as she pants smelly dog-breath enthusiastically at his face. “I don’t mean to make fun, but I doubt that squirrel is going to waltz into your mouth just because you bark at it. Maybe if you asked nicely…?”

Baskin trots away from him to stare anxiously up the tree again, whining. David follows her gaze and spies the squirrel in a high branch, clutching an armory of acorns. It bushes its tail out in affront when Baskin paws at the tree trunk, then flings another acorn. The first one hits Baskin square in the nose. The second hits David in the eye. Yelping, they both flee further into the woods.

They reach a burbling creek bed several minutes later, and David takes a seat beside it. Baskin laps at the water, then ambles upstream with her nose to the ground and her tail wagging. David pulls his phone from his pocket and glances at it—as he’d expected, several Snapchat notifications litter the lockscreen. Because, well, that’s the problem:

David likes being alone in the woods, and Jasper _hates_ that he likes it.

David can’t blame him, not really. He understands. (Although a part of him wishes he didn’t.) Jasper has an deep mistrust of the woods and everything in it. It was difficult enough convincing him to let David return to Camp Campbell, but at least there David was surrounded by other people, and people, in Jasper’s mind, mean safety. Or, perhaps more aptly, civilizationmeans safety. Tie-dye shirts and light-up shoes, the newest phone models, distant laughter and greasy McDonald’s happy meals—that’s safety. 

And David likes all that stuff, sure, but he couldn’t confine himself to it. He finds his peace in the woods, in the cool breeze and rustle of leaves. It reminds him of all the wonderful memories he’s made in nature over the years, and it settles the constant anxiety that bubbles beneath his ribs when he’s around people. He loves people _so much,_ but sometimes it’s so _hard_ to make them happy, and if he can’t do that—

If he can’t do that, what good is he, anyway?

…so! So he escapes, sometimes, claws his way out of the crowd and into the wide open woods where there’s no one to perform for and no one to disappointment with his performance. The trees don’t need him to cheer them up, the birds don’t mind if he’s not smiling, and the leaves don’t speak too critically of the lessons he tries to teach them. Jasper knows how he feels about these little weekend excursions, so he doesn’t cage David at home the way David knows he wants to. He knows just how much courage it takes for Jasper to release him back to the wild, and he appreciates it so much—the least he can do is offer Jasper the occasional assurance that he’s still alive and hasn’t, you know, been mauled by a bear.

Jasper’s _always_ worried he’s been mauled by a bear.

David opens Snapchat, tapping through the snaps Jasper had sent him. The first one is a picture of breakfast—bacon, eggs, and orange juice with a drooling emoji in the middle. His stomach rumbles hungrily, and at the reminder, he fishes through his backpack for a granola bar. Baskin prances back to him when she smells food, so he unfolds her collapsible bowls and fills them with kibble and fresh water before turning his attention back to his phone.

The second snap is an image of Max’s homework—long division, David does _not_ envy them—and a crying emoji with the word “help” next to it. David thinks that’s a rhetorical request. Jasper _knows_ he’s awful at math. That’s why he helps Max with reading and science, instead! The third snap (speak of the devil) is a picture of Max curled up on the couch with his fleece blanket draped over him. The text banner declares, quite solemnly, that “we gave up and we’re napping instead.” 

David chuckles, stretching his legs out in front of him. Across the creek, a bullfrog croaks at him and leaps further into the brambles. Baskin flops down across his legs once she’s eaten, her bellyfur tickling his shins and the tags on her collar jingling merrily. The fourth snap—sent a couple of hours after the third—is of Max standing on his step-stool and slicing red bell peppers on the kitchen counter, a concentrated little frown on his face. “i think he cooks better than both of us,” the banner declares. “maybe we should homeschool and he can teach us his ways??? + we avoid long division, so i think it’s a win-win”

A grin stretches across David’s face as he pats Baskin’s shoulder. She sighs contentedly, her tail flopping against the leaf litter of the forest floor. He snaps a picture of her, then taps out his own banner: “You two silly boys! I’m glad you’re having fun :)”

He doesn’t have to wait long for a reply. Jasper snaps back a few seconds later—or, more precisely, Max snaps back on Jasper’s account. It’s a selfie of him with an arched eyebrow and an expectant look. “skype now,” his banner reads. “u know what i want”

But before he has the chance to move to Skype, another snap appears: a picture of Jasper folding laundry in the living room floor. David’s heart swells with hapless affection, and he sighs wistfully. Max’s banner puts a thorn in his otherwise blissful mood, however. “also i think he may die if he doesn’t see u soon. he’s been pacing again”

David switches quickly to Skype for a videocall. The phone rings twice, and then Max picks up. He’s sitting on their couch, and his eyes brighten—however much he tries to hide it—when he sees David. “Hey,” he says. “Good to know you’re still alive.”

“Sure am!” David beams at him. He’s struck with the sudden urge to ruffle Max’s hair, to feel those tousled curls beneath his palm—he adores how much they feel like Jasper’s curls, how similar the two of them are and how terribly much he loves them both. “How are you two? You look like you’ve had a fun day.”

“Yeah, it was pretty good. Better than a school day, anyway.” Max sits up a little straighter, pushing his curls away from his forehead. They’ll need to get him a haircut, soon. “So? Where is she? I need to see my baby, David. I need to see what you’ve done to her.”

David flips the camera around so Max can see Baskin, and his son immediately collapses into a pile of delighted cooing. Baskin’s head jerks up at the sound of his voice, and she noses urgently against the phone, her tail whipping hard enough to sting when it hits David’s elbow. David laughs, reaching out to ruffle Baskin’s floppy ears.

“Baskin! Hi Baskin, hi baby,” Max says. “How are you? Are you good? Is David being mean to you? Aww—having to hike out in those big awful woods, it’s just terrible, I know. Are you keepin’ an eye on him, huh? Gotta make sure he doesn’t get lost or eaten by some monster? Yeah, you’re the responsible one, it’s youuu—my good girl, you’re such a good girl—”

“Is that your dad?” Jasper asks, somewhere in the background. 

“It’s Baskin,” Max says, miffed. “…but yeah David’s there too. Hang on, I’ll let you talk to him in a second.”

Once Max has finished adoring Baskin, he hands the phone off to Jasper. David flips the camera back around, and then he sees his husband—all fluffed blond curls and bright eyes, giddy smile at the ready. “Davey!” he says. “Hey, how are you?”

“I’m really good. Things have been going great out here! I mean, a squirrel got mad at us, and for a minute I thought it was gonna be like 2004 West Creek all over again—”

Jasper shudders at the very mention of it.

“—but we made it! I think we’re almost to the Iron Bridge, so we’ll stop and make camp there for the night, maybe fish a little.”

“You think you’ll still make it back home by tomorrow?” Jasper asks, and Max was right—he’s worrying again. There are tight lines around his eyes, and he rubs the heel of his hand over his chest as he talks.

“I do,” David says, trying to inflect his voice with confidence. He offers Jasper a smile, pressing the pads of his fingers to the phone screen. “Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be just fine, and we’ll be eating dinner together in less than a day.”

Jasper’s eyes flicker away from the screen. “I heard there was a storm coming,” he says. “A real doozy.”

“I have my rain jacket.”

“You’re not camping on the river, are you? If it floods—”

“I’ll camp about a mile away. The floodwaters won’t reach that far.”

“What if a tree gets struck by lightening and it falls over and you—” Jasper gulps. “Oh, jeez. You sure you don’t just wanna come back tonight? I think I’m buggin’.”

Jasper is definitely bugging. 

“Okay, hey—deep breath,” David says, and Jasper takes a deep breath. “Jas, I am going to be okay. I’ve camped in a storm or two before, remember? I know what I’m doing. If you’re this worried, I can turn around and head back, but I won’t be in Sleepy Peak until after midnight. It’s a long ways back to the car from where I’m at, and it’s already late. Besides, I don’t think driving in a storm is much safer than camping in one.”

Jasper chews his bottom lip, and David aches with a sudden want to be there, to pull that lip away from those teeth with the pad of his thumb and kiss away the sting. “I—no, you’re right,” Jasper says, his shoulders slumping. “You should stay.”

“You’ll be okay?”

“Yeah. I’m just worried. Nothin’ a little biking and some dinner won’t fix.”

“We can watch a scary movie later,” Max says in the background. “Give you somethin’ to actually worry about.”

A grin flickers across Jasper’s mouth. “You think so, little dude?”

“Well, _I_ think that’s a great idea!” David says cheerfully. He lowers his voice so Max won’t hear, adding, “Just not anything R-rated, right?”

Jasper winks at him. David’s…not sure whether he’s supposed to find that comforting or not. 

“And remember positive imaging,” David says, pointing at him through the camera. “Thinking that something is going to turn out well is the first step to making sure something turns out well.”

“I know, I know.”

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Just, uh—if you want to, you could call later tonight?” Jasper asks hopefully. “Let me know you made it through the storm?”

“Will do,” David promises.

“Okay, awesome! In that case, I’ll let you and Baskin bounce. Byeee, and we love you—Max tell your father you love him—”

“Don’t die out there or I’ll desecrate your mangy corpse!” Max shouts, which means pretty much the same thing. 

Touched, David tells them both he loves them (because _of course_ he does!) before he hangs up and tucks his phone back into his pocket. “Alright, Bas,” he says, standing up and stretching out. His spine pops, stiff from sitting in one place for so long. “Let’s get a move on.”

The two of them plunge further into the forest, and David loves every second of their adventure—but he also loves his family (more than this, even) and he can’t wait to get back to them. He’ll wrap Jasper up in his arms and nuzzle into the crook of his neck to breathe in the scent of cheap cologne and aftershave. Jasper will kiss his cheek, and David will grin and tell him all about the hike. Then he’ll scoop Max into his arms and hug him close—his son will pretend to protest, but they both know if Max really wanted down he’d kick David in the crotch (he’s done it before). Oh, just thinking about their reunion makes him feel all warm and fuzzy!

…ooor maybe that’s the wind kicking up in the southwest, hot and fast and promising a storm. But that’s okay! Like he told Jasper, he’s weathered a storm or two before, and he’ll weather this one just like all the rest. How could he do otherwise, when he knows there are people waiting for him to come home safe?


End file.
